


Love, Hate, Obsession, and a Thunderstorm

by DreamingStill



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Some Swearing, Some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29701467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingStill/pseuds/DreamingStill
Summary: A short Haymiss oneshot based around four of my Haymiss drabbles - Lover, Hate, Obsession, and Thunder.
Relationships: Haymitch Abernathy/Katniss Everdeen
Kudos: 1





	Love, Hate, Obsession, and a Thunderstorm

**Author's Note:**

> After I posted my Haymiss drabbles I was asked by Wichita29x about writing a longer story with love, hate, obsession, thunder. It took me eight months but I finally finished writing this! ^.^  
> I also created an aesthetic/moodboard to go with this fic which you can see below.  
> This is unbeta’d so forgive any mistakes. Enjoy!

It had been two years since the end of the war and Katniss had returned to District 12. Two years without Prim. And two years of struggling to find a way to live.

She and Peeta had tried to figure things out, but it just had not worked. They cared each other, deeply, but just not as lovers. Once maybe, without the Games, without the Trackerjack venom, without Prim’s death. But not now. Too much had happened, there was too much distance between them now.

Peeta found he could not stay and had been trying to work out where to go when Plutarch had convinced him to do a series of talks to the Districts. The talks were part of Plutarch’s grand plan for Panem, about the Districts and Capital working together, making it through the pain of war and loss, about building a future for all of Panem. They were also conveniently being recorded to be broadcast at a later date and over the following years, or whenever Plutarch felt they were needed.

And so, Katniss had not seen Peeta in quite some time, many months in fact, though they regularly wrote letters to each other. Writing was simpler than trying to talk on the phone, words flowed more easily when written down as opposed to struggling to say them out loud over the phone. From his letters, after some initial apprehension, Peeta now seemed to be quite enjoying himself. Katniss was pleased for him, but at the same time she was a little jealous. He was rebuilding his life piece by piece while she felt stuck in a rut, every day the same, never moving forward, never healing.

A consequence of Peeta’s absence was that Katniss had been spending more and more time at Haymitch’s house.

Initially, she went there under the pretence of bringing him some of her kills from the day’s hunting to make sure he had food to eat in the house. Then, when it was clear he was not eating and she was continuously finding the meat she was bringing him going off in the fridge, she started making dinner. Having gotten tired of tripping over empty bottles and the general mess that was Haymitch’s house she began to clean, just the kitchen and sitting room mind, she wasn’t a cleaning lady. And so, she ended up in Haymitch’s more often than her own house.

Once such autumn day dawned murky, with an air of foreboding. Dark grey clouds hung ominously in the sky, matching Katniss’s mood.

She set out mid-morning and soon wished she had not set out at all. It had not been a good day for hunting. There was hardly anything in the snares, no prey no be seen, and the tracks she found were all at least a couple of hours old, nothing newer.

Katniss groaned inwardly and glanced up at the sky through a gap in the foliage. It was going to rain soon and she needed to get back, but she wanted to get a little more game. She could just imagine Haymitch’s ribbing if she returned home with next to nothing to eat, he would never let her live it down. “Putting me on rations now, are you sweetheart?” “Hoping to inherit this house too if I die of starvation?”

No, she definitely needed some more game to bring back. So, she set off deeper into the trees in search of prey.

At last, she spotted a large, healthy looking male rabbit. She notched an arrow, slowed her breathing, and released the bowstring. Her shot found its mark.

Her moment of victory did not last long though. While she may have caught her prey, she had stayed out too late and the rain began to fall. Large heavy droplets that bent the leaves as they fell and soaked through her clothes in seconds.

Cursing, Katniss gathered her things and made her way out of the forest and back into town. She broke into a run when she reached the tree line as the cold trickle of rain ran down her neck.

Then the thunder and lightning came.

District 12 disappeared, and Katniss was back in the arena. Terror swept over her and adrenaline coursed through her veins. Her eyes darted to-and-fro, searching for any threats as her feet pounded into the wet muddy ground. She wanted to scream but it caught in her throat. Escape, run, hide. She could not breathe, she sucked in air like she was drowning. She no longer saw or heard, there was only fear, only death.

She did not know where she was going. It did not matter, she just needed to get away.

She burst through Haymitch’s front door like a deranged wild animal, soaked to the bone and shaking from head to toe, tears indistinguishable from the rain.

“Fuck!” Haymitch roared as he nearly fell off the chair he had been sitting on. He clutched the edge of the kitchen table to regain balance, a half empty bottle of liquor crashing to the floor.

He opened his mouth to yell at Katniss but there was another clap of thunder and Katniss cowered, dropping her game, and Haymitch’s scathing remarks died as he understood what had happened.

Haymitch paused for a moment, deliberating, and then lumbered out of the kitchen. He returned moments later with a couple of towels and some spare clothes.

He stood over the still cowering Katniss and said, “Afraid of the storm? It’s only a little thunder.”

“I hate you,” she hissed, glaring up at him, teeth chattering.

“The feeling’s mutual, sweetheart,” he taunted back and yet he still offered her the towel and the clothes.

Katniss took them hesitantly, muttering a quick “Thanks.”

Haymitch just shrugged his shoulders. With the thunder and lightning having momentarily let up, he picked up the game before taking it, and himself, out of the kitchen.

He returned some minutes later to find Katniss, dressed in his clothes, laying her own damp garments in front of the fire to dry.

He grabbed some leftovers from the fridge and brought them and another bottle of alcohol over to Katniss who had sat down on one end of the couch.

The ate in silence, Haymitch occasionally offering the bottle to Katniss who took a long and grateful swig before handing it back.

The storm picked up again shattering their short-lived peace. The thunder resumed and with it came Katniss’s anxiety. She pulled her knees up to her chest and buried her head, covering her ears in a vain attempt to drown out the noise.

Haymitch, wincing at the roaring thunder, was faring better than his young companion but he could not bear the sight of Katniss in such a state. His insides twisted in fury at what the Capital had done to Katniss and regret at his failure to keep her safe. He could not leave her cowering at one end of his couch, he had to do something.

“Here,” Haymitch grumbled eventually, opening his arms.

Katniss looked up, her eyes red from tears and after a moment’s indecision she scuttled across the couch and into Haymitch’s embrace. Strong arms wrapped around her, providing an anchor to reality, to safety, against the onslaught of noise, and memories, and fear.

The thunder cracked loud in the quiet night air, and Katniss curled in closer to Haymitch, his arms tightening around her. The thunder reminded her of the arena cannon. It reminded Haymitch too, but he tried not to show it.

The noise, the sound of each clap of thunder reverberated within the two Victors bringing with it unwanted memories and feelings. As the thunder roared, the lightning flashed, and the wind howled they clung together and waited out the storm and its frightening sound.

And that was how it started.

From that night on, after every dinner Katniss would go and curl up on the couch. Haymitch, while at first hesitant, forego his usual seat and proceeded to sit at the other end of the couch. And so, the habit of sitting together on the couch was formed.

As autumn turned to winter and the nights grew dark and cold, Haymitch produced a blanket for Katniss to help keep her warm.

Katniss muttered her thanks and took the offered blanket.

Haymitch gave a grunt and grumbled, “I don’t want to deal with an irate Peeta if you freeze to death in my house.”

Katniss had to struggle not to roll her eyes, but she nonetheless burrowed into the blanket, happy in her cocoon of warmth.

As the days went by Katniss began to notice that while she was perfectly warm and cosy, Haymitch was decidedly not, although he did his very best to hide it. With a soft sigh Katniss move over close to Haymitch and throw a portion of the blanket over him as well.

He turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow.

“I too, don’t want to deal with an irate Peeta if you freeze to death.”

Haymitch gave a small snort but did not refuse the blanket. After several moments he fixed it more securely around himself.

They continued sharing the blanket for the rest of winter. Neither mentioned nor produced a second blanket, or even remarked on how they moved from sitting beside each other to eventually wrapping their arms around one another.

Winter changed into spring and their nightly routine was formed, of curling up and holding each other until the night drew in and tiredness drove them to their separate beds. They drew comfort from this ritual and from each other.

Katniss often pondered on how it was similar to the comfort Peeta brought her, but at the same time it was entirely different. She loved Peeta like family, with him it was easy. But with Haymitch it was completely different. Their comfort was driven by a grudging need; two headstrong, wilful, individuals who tried to prove to the other that they did not need the comfort. But they did need each other, and eventually they began to accept it, and in time cherished it.

Days became weeks, and weeks became months, and they found a strange love forming between them.

Haymitch would challenge her and lash out, and she would give as good as she got, and yet they would not be parted. There was a need and a strange affection that only grew between them.

As time went by, Katniss realised she loved and hated Haymitch in equal measure. She hated his drunkenness but loved his gentleness. She hated how he knew what she was going to say before she did, often teasing or taunting her. But she loved how he knew what she needed, how he would hold her without question if she needed it. She loved him and hated him, and she realised she never wanted to let him go.

For Haymitch, he began to understand how much he loved Katniss and hated himself. He hated what he had become, what the Capital, the Games, and his grief had twisted him into, so drunk and angry and alone. Sometimes he even hated Katniss. He hated the way she made him feel, his need for her, his growing love for her. He hated her and someday he would be worthy of her love.

All three District 12 Victors had been broken to some degree by the Games, by the Capital, by Snow. But Peeta had a way of talking to people, of connecting with them that that Katniss and Haymitch did not. He was healing in a manner which neither Katniss nor Haymitch ever could, and that set him apart from them. Peeta rarely returned to District 12 now, although he wrote to both of them regularly and they wrote back to him, although Katniss usually had to pester Haymitch until he relented and wrote something in reply.

Katniss and Haymitch continued to grow closer, their love flourishing, and when at last they lay together they each found their peace.

Haymitch was a gentle lover, which surprised and delighted Katniss. He touched her with reverence and awe, like he could not believe that she was there, with him. On the other hand, Katniss was a passionate lover. She would fight him and argue with him, but when they came together, she would kiss him and love him like he was the only one that mattered.

There was an intensity in their love, a need that was greater than both of them. They needed each other, every touch, and every caress. Gentle or passionate their love was rapture.

This love, this hate, they had for each other developed into something more. It grew into an obsession.

It awakened a buried part in each of them, wild and dark, long suppressed and denied. There were no words to express this need, new and burning, and powerful enough to destroy them. Being around each other was a torture, an ecstasy. It was terrifying and exhilarating. From beneath the layers of pain and grief and trauma they were falling, drowning, in a torrent of emotions and feelings with the other as the only anchor. Wants, desires, and needs, there was no beginning or end, only an onslaught of something desperate and entreating, of shattering sensations and emotions.

He was the air she breathed, the water she drank, the food she ate. He was her obsession. She did not want to be around him, but she could not live without him. His touch, his taste, his very soul… She wanted it all… And she would have it all.

She was his world, and he would do anything for her. He would kill any who hurt her, burn the Capitol and the Districts to the ground if that is what she wanted. He would worship her until his dying breath, for she was his obsession.

What started from a thunderstorm grew from hate to love, and finally to an all-consuming passion, an obsession.

They were two broken District 12 Victors, but together they were whole. Their scars, their fears, their anger, it did not matter. They could love each other, hate each other, crave each other, and it did not matter because they would always find each other. They would always be there for each other. Love or hate or obsession, as long as they had each other they would be alright. As they had each other they would survive, and they would live.

***

Fin


End file.
